A Time to Move On - Part 1
Jan. 18th, 2009 10:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sesheta66Another round of ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hd_holidays is over, reveals are up, and as always there were some great contributions of both fic and art. I would like to thank ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aluinnsearlait for my gift of gorgeous art, Harry and Malfoy, Ministry's Yule Gala, 2008 [Rating: G]. ♥
Below is part one of my entry, with a link to part two at the end:
Author:sesheta_66
Betas:winnett, marguerite_26 and raitala
Word Count: ~ 15,500
Challenge: Originally written for__hibiscus in hd_holidays.
Title: A Time to Move On
Pairings: Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione
Summary: With the war behind them, and wounds still raw, the students at Hogwarts try to work out what their futures might hold for them, and perhaps recapture a little of their lost youth along the way.
Rating: PG-13 / light R
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
A Time to Move On - Part 1
May 2, 1998
Harry, Ron and Hermione left the Headmistress's office, Ron grumbling about the Elder Wand.
"You two go on ahead," Harry told Ron and Hermione. "There's something I want to do."
"But it was your idea to head back to Gryffindor in the first place," Ron pointed out. He looked shell-shocked, part of the reason Harry wanted to go back to Gryffindor Tower. He thought Ron could use a bit of time to process everything before he returned to face ….
"We'll come with you," Hermione suggested.
"No! I mean … I'll only be a few minutes. I'll see you in the Common Room."
Determined, Harry went back to face the crowd once more. He desperately needed sleep, needed to be away from everyone, but he was afraid that he might not get the chance again. Afraid they'd leave before he could say anything. Strange, that. He'd always known that others would help him along the way. He just never expected … well. He just couldn't say nothing.
Harry made his way into the Great Hall. There they were, right where they'd been when Harry left. His decision made, Harry walked over to the Malfoys.
"Malfoy." Harry looked at the other teen who, like himself, had the look of someone who had seen far too much, at far too young an age. "Could we talk?"
"Here to rub it in, Potter?" Lucius spat in his direction. "Not enough that we're —"
"Lucius!" Narcissa Malfoy cut her husband off. Harry watched as their son seemed to become smaller, like he hoped the ground would swallow him up.
"Perhaps we should talk another time," Harry addressed Draco. A slight nod was his only response.
Turning to Lucius Malfoy, Harry did his best not to do exactly what the man expected of him, no matter how tempting. "Lucius," Harry said, noting to his pleasure that his lack of formality was not lost on any of them. "I have no desire to rub it in, as you suggest. I'm sure there will be plenty of time — and plenty of other people — to do that later on. I don't plan to be one of them."
Lucius narrowed his eyes, looking as though he were sizing Harry up. "Time will tell, Mr. Potter."
"That it will."
Harry turned to Narcissa. "Mrs. Malfoy, I wanted to say —"
Her wide eyes told Harry to stop. Well. She must not have told her husband and son what she had done. That it hadn't been a mistake. Very well.
"I wanted to say that I misjudged you."
She had a fleeting, panicked look on her face, but when her husband turned to look at her, she resumed her cool demeanour.
"It's clear to me that you love your son very much. I … not that my opinion should matter to you, but … well, I think Draco is lucky to have you."
All three Malfoys gaped at him. Lucius's shock faded to guarded disbelief. Not much of a surprise there. Draco's gaze dropped to the floor. Who knew what he was thinking? Narcissa smiled. Harry realised it was the first time he had ever seen her really smile. It suited her. She ought to do it more often. Then again, living with Lucius …
"Thank you," she said. "I do indeed love my son very much." She looked into Harry's eyes, holding the gaze for a moment before continuing. "As I am sure your mother loved you."
Well. It was Harry's turn to be surprised.
Not wanting his emotions to get the better of him, he turned back to Draco. "I'll owl you."
As Harry left the Great Hall, he saw that Ron had not gone to Gryffindor, but was waiting just outside the door. His hands were clutching the wall — from fear, anguish or weariness Harry couldn't tell. He suspected it was a mixture of all three, and that his grip on the stone was all that kept him upright.
"What was that about?" Ron asked.
"Nothing. I just wanted to talk to Malfoy is all."
Ron's lost look morphed into one of irritation. "What do you need to talk to ferret boy for?"
Harry groaned inwardly. This was precisely the scene he'd wanted to avoid. How could he explain to Ron what was going through his mind? How could he describe what it was like to die? What it was like to accept the finality of it all, only to be thrust back into the fray. To desperately want the peace that, if only for a fleeting few moments, death had brought. He didn't want to die, but … he just couldn't go back to the way things were either.
"Ron, just leave off, will you? It's over. The war, the Death Eaters, everything. Can't we just —" Harry gestured wildly in the air, "— I don't know. Move on?"
Ron's jaw flexed and he leaned towards Harry. "Move on?!" Ron screeched, incredulity dripping off his words. "My brother is dead." He thrust his finger in the direction of his mourning family, his brother's body. "In case you hadn't noticed. He's not even in his grave yet, and you want me to move on?"
"Sorry, mate. That was ... insensitive of me."
"Bloody right it was!" Ron fumed, his face scarlet.
"But ... well … I just ... I don't know. I'm tired, Ron. Aren't you tired?" He looked at his friend's stricken face, willing him to understand. "I'm tired of it all. I just ... I want ... I don't know what I want. All I know is that I don't want to go back to the way it was. Not ever again.
"I know Fred is gone, and there's nothing we can do to change that. Same with Remus and Tonks and ... everyone." Harry dragged his hands down his face, blinking back the burning behind his eyes. "I just want to look forward, not back." He looked at Ron's unwavering expression. "I just … " Harry's voice trailed off as he gave up trying to find the words he needed. He wondered briefly if his brush with death had addled his brain.
Ron glared at Harry, then looked at his family grieving by Fred's body. He turned back to Harry. "You do that, mate. As for me, I'm going to be with my family."
Harry watched as his best friend walked away from him and joined the Weasleys. Mrs. Weasley hugged Ron so hard Harry was surprised he didn't cry out in pain. Mr. Weasley slapped him on the back and said something, then squeezed Ron's arm. Ginny collapsed on Ron's chest and he held her, running his hand through her hair. The rest of them sat, staring blankly, saying nothing, obviously in shock. Not one of them looked up at Harry.
As much as they considered him to be family, Harry knew better. He couldn't grieve with them. He wasn't one of them, no matter how desperately he wanted to belong. Without a word, he left the Great Hall and all the carnage behind. Forgetting all about his bed in Gryffindor Tower, he pressed open the double doors of the only home he'd ever known and walked into the light. Hoping that no one would follow, Harry Apparated to Godric's Hollow, where it had all begun.
Disguised, just as he'd been the last time he was there, Harry went to his old home. Now there was nothing to fear. He could take his time. He could grieve properly, something he'd never done before.
The cottage stood, as it had those few months ago, damaged and overrun with ivy, the right side of the upper floor blown away. There was no snow this time, so he could see the extensive damage. Hermione had been right; it didn't look safe. Still, Harry had to go inside, if only to say goodbye.
As Harry touched the rusty gate, once again the sign rose from the ground.
May 7, 1998
"So, what is it you wanted to discuss with me, Potter?"
Harry looked up from the table. He hadn't noticed Malfoy enter the Leaky Cauldron. "Have a seat."
Malfoy frowned. "What for?"
"So we might have a civil conversation without you causing a scene by standing there glaring at me."
Malfoy looked around. Sure enough, people had begun to stare. He glared at them before sitting down. "There. I'm sitting. What do you want?"
"I thought I'd have some shepherd's pie, actually."
"Lunch?" Malfoy sounded incredulous. "First you suggest we might have a civil conversation — something I might point out, in seven years, we've never successfully done — and then you want to have lunch together?"
Harry smiled. "Mm-hmm."
"This is ridiculous!" Malfoy stood up.
"Sit down," Harry whispered. "I wanted to talk to you, and since, as you pointed out, we've never actually had a normal conversation, I thought we might try over lunch."
"Very well." Malfoy eyed him sceptically, but resumed his seat. "But for the record, it won't work."
"What won't?"
"I'm not giving you anything incriminating on my father."
Harry laughed. "Is that what you think this is about?"
"Well … isn't it?"
The waitress arrived to take their orders, giving Harry a chance to process what Malfoy had said. When she left, they sat in awkward silence, each of them looking anywhere but at each other.
After what felt like an eternity, Malfoy cleared his throat and fixed Harry with a stare. "You were saying?"
Harry fidgeted, trying to figure out the best way to proceed. He opted for the truth. "The Ministry hardly needs me — or anyone else for that matter — to covertly gather information on your father. Lucius is an escaped Death Eater, who had enough charges on him to put him in Azkaban in the first place." Harry watched as Malfoy looked down at the table and seemed to absorb what he was saying. "And in case it escaped your notice, Malfoy Manor was used as Death Eater headquarters."
Malfoy's head shot up and he glared at Harry. "No, it did not escape my notice, Potter." He practically spit out the words. His glare turned hostile, and his hands gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles were turning white.
"Shit." Harry ran his hands through his hair. "I'm sorry."
Malfoy's glare faltered at Harry's apology. "What?"
"I said I'm sorry. I didn't mean … I didn't think … I shouldn't have said that. Of course you didn't forget. I saw you … when Voldemort —" Malfoy cringed. "Never mind."
"Look, Potter," Malfoy said, loosening his grip on the table. "Like I said, this was a bad idea. I'll just go —"
As he stood up to leave, Harry grabbed his wrist. "Don't go. I'm sorry. Let's try again. No more talk about the war."
Harry let go as the waitress arrived with their food. Malfoy resumed his seat, and their meal was eaten in more uncomfortable silence.
"So," Harry said, putting down his fork, desperate to salvage … something. "How's your mum doing?"
Malfoy finished his current mouthful, took a sip of his water, then looked at Harry. "Let's see, a few days ago — one day after we returned home — your friends, the Aurors, dropped by for a visit and dragged her husband of twenty years off to Azkaban. How do you think she's doing?"
"I'm sorry —"
"No you're not. Don't pretend like you care about my father —"
"I didn't mean …" Harry dragged his hands through his hair again. This wasn't going at all like he'd planned. Well, if he had actually planned anything. "If there's anything I can do for you … anything you or your mother need —"
"But not my father."
Harry's back stiffened and he looked straight into Malfoy's eyes. They were defiant, just as Harry imagined his own eyes were now. "No. Not your father."
"Well then." Malfoy pushed aside his plate. "I'll be going."
"Wait," Harry said, again reaching across the table to prevent Malfoy from getting up. "Just give me a few more minutes of your time. Please."
Malfoy looked down at where Harry's hand was holding his arm. He pulled away, but didn't get up. "Please, Potter? This must be a record. You've apologised, offered me and my mother your assistance, and said please to me today. Surely the world as we know it is ending."
"Well, the world as we knew it has ended. The war is over."
"It's not over for some of us."
"Of course." Harry hadn't thought about that. What else was new? He never really thought about anything much before jumping in or opening his mouth. Only this time … well, it didn't seem to be working out for him. "I'm so—"
"If you say you're sorry one more time, I'm definitely leaving. I, for one, am not sorry you won the war. I'm glad snake-face is dead. I'm not happy about how things worked out, but I suppose …" He looked at Harry and shrugged. "I suppose father made his own choices, and he can't expect anyone to get him out of the mess he's in."
"Thank you."
Malfoy gave Harry an incredulous look. "Who are you and what have you done with Harry Potter?" He looked at his watch. "It's been about an hour, and you were here before me. Surely any Polyjuice you might have taken should have worn off by now."
Harry smiled. Really smiled. "It's really me, Malfoy. I'm just … tired. I'm tired of always fighting. Ever since I was eleven, and I found out I was a wizard, I —"
"Wait. What? You only found out you were a wizard when you were eleven?"
"Did I never tell you?"
The sneer Harry received was almost comforting in its familiarity.
"Right. We never had a conversation before." Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I was raised by my Muggle relatives who hated magic and refused to have it mentioned in the house. They hoped to will it" —or beat it— "out of me."
Malfoy's eyes narrowed. Whether in confusion, disbelief or annoyance, Harry couldn't be sure.
"When my Hogwarts letter arrived, they took it, wouldn't let me see it. Long story short, Hagrid hand-delivered me the letter and told me I was a wizard. That was on my eleventh birthday."
"But … but didn't you suspect something? Didn't you have errant magic happening all around you?"
"I suppose. But only if I was especially angry, upset or scared. I got in trouble any time it happened, but I didn't know why. I didn't realise it was happening because of me."
"Why didn't you ask?"
"I wasn't allowed to." Harry started to feel uncomfortable. How had the topic veered into this territory? "Anyway, I didn't mean to talk about my past. I just wanted to say that since I've known I was a wizard, I've been fighting. Fighting Voldemort, fighting the Prophet, fighting the Ministry … fighting you."
Malfoy looked put out, as if he resented the topic change, as if he were actually interested in Harry's past.
"Like I said, I'm tired, Malfoy. Tired of the fighting. Tired of always having to think about the next battle. I'm … well, I'm done."
Malfoy laughed, a good hearty laugh. It took Harry aback. He'd never actually seen Malfoy laugh without malice before.
"You?" he said, still chuckling. "You will never be done fighting, Potter." He wiped a stray tear. Harry wasn't sure why this was so funny to Malfoy.
"Tell me … what are you planning to do with the rest of your life?"
Harry frowned. "I'll probably become an Auror."
Malfoy cleared his throat and schooled his face into a serious expression. "Right. No fighting there."
Harry couldn't help the grin that tugged at his mouth. He could feel the blood rushing to his face. "Shut up."
"Oooh. There's an impressive comeback."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Right. Let me rephrase it then. I'm tired of fighting all the time. I may end up doing it as part of my job, but I'd like to just … I dunno … just enjoy life for a while."
"And you want to start with me?"
"Why not?"
"Because it's your job, Potter, like it or not."
"My job? You mean fighting with you?"
"Fighting the bad guys."
"You're not one of the bad guys."
"Yes I am."
"Not any more," Harry argued. His thoughts went back to images of Malfoy's face — through Voldemort's eyes — as he was forced to torture innocent people. Harry took a good look at the young man sitting across from him and realised something startling. "In fact, I don't know that you ever were."
"Now you're just being stupid."
"Whatever. I know what I saw."
"What do you mean, what you saw?"
Now that they were talking, Harry didn't want to get back into a discussion about the war. "I'll tell you some other time."
Harry reached into his cloak and pulled out a small package, ignoring Malfoy's flinch at his sudden action. He supposed it would be a long while before any of them could not react to something abrupt. He enlarged the package and handed it to Malfoy.
Harry watched as Malfoy's eyes widened. "Is this …?" His fingers moved hesitantly towards the parcel.
"Your wand, yes."
Malfoy opened the package, removed the wand, then held it, weighing it in his palm. Harry watched as a look of contentment washed over Malfoy's face. He could almost feel the warmth that his own wand produced whenever he held it. He remembered the day he bought it, and just how right it felt.
Malfoy frowned as he looked at Harry. "Thank you." It was said so quietly, Harry wasn't sure he was meant to hear.
"See?" he said, grinning. "That didn't hurt, did it?"
"Prat," Malfoy said, the hint of a smile warring with his frown. "It hurt a little."
Harry snorted. "Thank you, Malfoy. And thank your mother. You both helped me out, and I never would have made it through the battle otherwise."
Malfoy looked confused. "I know what my mother did, Potter. But I didn't do a damn thing to help you."
"Yes you did." Harry looked down at the wand Malfoy was holding reverently. "Even if you didn't mean to."
Malfoy followed Harry's gaze. "This? You took this from me. I didn't give it to you, for Merlin's sake."
"But you didn't identify us at the Manor. And you stopped Crabbe killing me. Like it or not, Malfoy, you did help."
Malfoy looked put out. "Whatever."
Harry called the waitress over, and handed her some galleons. "Take care, Malfoy. And tell your mother thanks from me."
"You should tell her yourself."
"I know. And I will. Just … just let her know, yeah?"
"Fine."
September, 1998
"Harry!"
Inwardly groaning, Harry recognised the voice calling him. Ginny. He was hoping to avoid her at least until they reached the school, but apparently the fates would not allow him that peace.
"Ginny."
She approached him slowly as she dragged her trunk behind. She leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Could we talk?" she asked.
"Can it wait —"
"No, Harry, it can't."
"Look, Gin, we need to get aboard the train."
"It leaves in twelve minutes. I only want five. If that." She looked at him with such determination, he knew it would be pointless to argue.
"Fine," he sighed. "What do you want to talk about?"
"Not here," she said. "Over there." She pointed to a waiting area that stood empty, as most people were in the process of boarding.
No sooner did they enter the room than Ginny waved her wand, locking the door and casting a Muffliato. Harry felt his nerves flutter under her gaze.
"Well?" he asked. "What did you want to talk about?"
"Us."
"What about us?"
She rolled her eyes, sighed and sat down on her trunk. "Oh, I don't know, Harry. Maybe the fact that there is no us."
Harry frowned and shot her a confused look.
"I'm not some delicate little flower who needs protecting, and I'm not stupid, Harry, and I ... I just don't think you see that. I think what you see is Ron's little sister."
"No, Ginny, I —"
"Yes, Harry, you do." She stood up, her hand to his chest preventing Harry's argument from being voiced. She looked up into Harry's eyes, then down at her hand. It started to quiver and she pulled it and herself away.
Turning to face the opposite wall, she continued. "It's okay, though." Her voice wavered and she cleared her throat. "I waited for you, Harry. I waited for a long time, for you to come round. And when you finally did, I was so happy."
She turned back to face him, looking anything but happy. She blinked, then looked away again, wrapping her arms around herself.
"But now … I don't know if you wanted me, or just missed my attention."
Harry bristled at that. He hated attention. She knew that. "Ginny, you know I —"
"That's just it, Harry, I don't know. I don't think I know you at all. For years I thought I loved you, but honestly, I'm not so sure now."
Harry tried not to be offended, but he couldn't help scowling at her remark.
"Please don't take what I'm saying the wrong way. I love you ... I just don't know if I'm in love with you."
Was that supposed to make sense? Harry suspected she'd been talking to Hermione a lot over the summer. All he could manage in response was, "Oh."
"Come on, Harry, admit it. You're not in love with me; you never were. You were so busy fighting the bad guys that you barely even noticed me." She looked sad, but resolute. "I think I was a novelty, the kid sister that kept fawning over you. It's rather embarrassing to think about now, but I can't change the past, can I? I've grown up a lot, Harry, and I've had this past year to think about us."
Yes, well, sorry I was a bit preoccupied myself. "And?"
She shuffled her feet and began ringing her hands. When she looked at Harry, he thought she was going to start crying. Instead, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
"And I think that we had our time but now it's over." She paused. Harry wondered if he was expected to say something. Before he had a chance, she continued. "You're the hero that everyone loves, myself included."
She did not just say that. Oh, this is definitely Hermione's work. His irritation flared as she got into her stride.
"You were also my big brother's friend, the one my parents welcomed as one of the family. I was the girl with the crush on you that suddenly started dating other boys, and you realised, finally, that I was a girl. It was convenient; it was easy."
"I'd like to think it was more than that."
She put a hand on his arm. It felt condescending to him. "Of course it was more than that. I'm just summarising things. When it came right down to it, though, you never saw me as your equal. You were the hero that went off and hunted down the Horcruxes and killed Voldemort."
"I wasn't alone."
"I know, and that's just it. You went with Ron and Hermione."
"They're my best friends."
"Exactly. I'm not. I never was, and never will be. I think you'll always see me as the little sister, the one to protect and keep safe."
Harry opened his mouth to say something, realised with a shock that she was probably right, and shut it again.
"As flattering as that may seem, Harry, it's not to me. I felt like you set me aside to stay out of the way while the big kids went to play. If you haven't figured it out by now, that's not me. I'm tired of being in your shadow. I don't want to be in anyone's shadow."
"So that's it, then?" Harry asked.
"I think so."
"Okay." Really, what else was there to say? She may not be right about everything, but Harry had to admit to himself that he'd known it was over before they even spoke.
Ginny smiled and hugged him, pressing her lips to his in a chaste kiss as she pulled back. "If it was love, you would have fought a lot harder."
Harry smiled and gave her hands a squeeze. "Yeah. I think you're right."
"Goodbye, Harry."
"Bye, Ginny."
Harry watched his ex-girlfriend leave the room and make her way onto the Hogwarts Express. Strange as it seemed, he felt a lightness, a freedom that he hadn't felt in a long time, if ever. Smiling at the wonder that was Ginny Weasley, he pulled his trunk behind him and boarded the train for his final year.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Harry found himself an empty cabin — he didn't even bother trying to find anyone — and settled himself inside. He wouldn't turn any of his friends away, but he hoped that he was late enough boarding that they would have found their own seats, and others might want to give him space.
"Potter?" So much for being alone.
"Malfoy? What are you doing here?"
"Where are your sidekicks?" he asked, ignoring Harry's question and leaning against the cabin doorway, hands crossed over his chest. "I can't imagine Granger and the weasel letting you out of their sight for more than a minute."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Please! They do just fine on their own these days." They won't even notice my absence. "I imagine they're attending to their prefect duties."
"Ah."
"Hey, you're a prefect. Why aren't you in the prefect's cabin?"
Malfoy sneered. "Surely you don't imagine that McGonagall would allow me to continue as a prefect after ... well."
Harry mentally slapped himself. "Oh, right. Sorry. Didn't think."
Malfoy snorted. "Typical."
"Nice."
"I'll just go find another compartment, then."
Harry sighed. "Don't bother. There's plenty of room in here."
Malfoy gave him a curious look, but didn't move from the door.
"It's just me in here. We don't even have to talk."
"Why?"
Harry's mind automatically scrambled to come up with the end of that. Why what? He gave up, realising it didn't matter. "I'm sure we'll manage."
When Malfoy still didn't move, Harry said, "I'm surprised you're returning."
"Last year wasn't exactly a stellar learning experience, unless one is planning to take up torture as a profession."
"So you didn't sit your NEWTs?"
"I didn't see the point. I only would have ended up with mediocre marks. And a Malfoy is never mediocre."
"I'll give you that, Malfoy." As students pushed by Malfoy in the aisle, Harry rolled his eyes. "Bring in your trunk and have a seat."
"What, no she-weasel?" He still didn't move.
"Not that it's any of your business, but we broke up."
"I hadn't heard."
"Not surprising, since it happened about ten minutes ago."
"You look positively heartbroken." Sarcasm dripped off his words.
Harry shrugged. "I guess it was a long time coming."
As a younger student struggled to get by Malfoy, Harry frowned and motioned for Malfoy to get out of the way.
"Just get in here. After all, it's a new year. We're in for a fresh start. Might as well begin now."
"You really are an idiot, Potter." Despite his words, he hauled his trunk into the cabin.
"Why do you say that?"
"Your Gryffindor sense of fairness has clearly muddled with your brain's ability to see what's in front of you. I would think, after years of being sought after by a madman, you'd be less naive."
"I am not naive, Malfoy."
"You are if you think any Slytherins are going to get a fresh start. Especially a Slytherin with the name Malfoy."
"I don't know about everyone else, but I know that I don't want to carry all the rivalry from the past forward. I plan to look ahead, not back."
Malfoy coughed. "Yeah, right."
Harry scowled. "Really. I mean it."
"You mean to tell me that you'll hold no grudges?"
"I ... well, I'll try. I don't want to judge people on the past."
"Even Pansy?"
Harry thought about that for a bit before answering. She had wanted to turn Harry over to Voldemort. She had tried to rally the students against him. But, Harry wondered, how many other people had the same thought, but didn't voice it? How many were content enough to flee, figuring Harry would get it in the end anyway?
He nodded. "Even Parkinson."
"This I've got to see," Malfoy replied.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Harry awoke to the sound of the compartment door slamming open.
"It's true!" a voice from the doorway called. "You really are going back!"
Malfoy looked up from the book he was reading. "How observant of you, Smith."
Zacharias Smith's wand was out instantly, and as Malfoy pulled his wand out, Harry cast a silent Protego and whatever hex Smith cast was deflected.
"What the —" Smith began, but as he noticed who had cast the spell, he stopped. "Potter? What are you doing in here with ... with him?"
"Until you so rudely interrupted, Smith, I was catching a nap."
"You what?" Smith was appalled as his mouth opened and shut a few times before he continued. "How could you let your guard down around ... this?"
Harry stood up, livid, wand pointed at Smith's throat. "Last I checked, I didn't report to anyone, Smith, least of all you."
"I didn't mean ... I just ... you should be careful. He's a Death Eater. He let his mates into the school. He —"
"Shut up!" Harry barked. "You know nothing! He's no Death Eater. Anything he did for Voldemort was for his family."
"Right. Dear ol' Daddy."
"Have you ever had anyone threaten your parents? Have you ever watched that same person threaten, torture and kill others right in front of you? Have you ever watched grown men, otherwise strong men, cower at the feet of the man that is threatening your family? Have you ever had anyone take away all the power that you have, all the power than your family has, then tell you to do something or else?" Harry had stepped closer to Smith, so his face was only a few inches from the other man's. "Well, have you?"
"N-no," Smith stuttered.
"I thought not." Harry took a step back but didn't lower his wand. "Until you have, you've no business judging anyone. Now, kindly fuck off and leave Draco and me in peace."
Harry shoved Smith out the door and with a wave of his wand, slammed it shut and locked it.
"Potter?" Malfoy asked after a few moments of silence.
Harry put away his wand and rubbed his hand over his face, hoping to scrub away the stress. "Hmm?"
"What was … what were you … why did you …?"
Harry laughed. "Not very articulate today, are you?"
"What did you do that for?"
"Smith is a prat."
"Actually, he's a fuckwit, but still. Why would you stand up for me like that?"
"He pissed me off."
"Yeah, I got that." Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Look, Potter, I get that you have this saving people thing that you do, but the war is over. I don't need saving."
"I know that. But people like Smith need someone to put them in their place."
"And that someone is you?"
"For today, sure. Why shouldn't it be?"
"Because you said you were tired of fighting. Besides, what he said was the truth."
"No it wasn't."
"Look." Malfoy was becoming agitated. "Stop trying to make me out to be the good guy who slipped up. That wasn't me. You of all people should know that. I fucked up in a big way, and now I have to pay for it. Just let me deal with it."
"No."
"Potter, I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. Don't. Help. Me."
"I'm afraid you're out of luck there, Draco."
"Don't call me Draco."
Harry grinned. "Fine. Malfoy. Here's the deal. I have lived with the threat of Voldemort looming over my head since I was eleven. Before that actually, but I didn't know about it then. I'm tired of living in a constant state of battle, whether big or small. So if I see anything that resembles that, I'm going to step in. Whether it's you on the receiving end or someone else. I'm sick of it all, and I'm going to do my best to get rid of poison like that."
"Even if the weasel is the one dishing it out?"
"Even then." Harry surprised himself when he realised that was the truth.
Malfoy scowled, but Harry could see the corners of his mouth twitching. He meant what he said. He was sick of fighting, even the petty little arguments at school. He hated it all.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Two weeks into term, McGonagall asked the seventh and eighth years to stay behind after dinner.
"I was approached by a few senior students for permission to hold a party," she announced to the group.
Hermione's smug expression spoke volumes. She was obviously one of the students.
"In an effort to promote inter-house unity, I have agreed. Next Saturday, the two top years have permission for a gathering. That should give you eight days to finalise the arrangements. Look on your house common room notice boards for more details and for the opportunity to participate in organising the event."
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
"Tell me why we're doing this again, Hermione?" Ron asked for the hundredth time.
"Inter-house unity."
"But why do we have to include the Slytherins?"
Hermione stopped and gave him a fierce look. "Ronald, the entire point of this is to mend fences, get past … well, the past."
"They're still Slytherins," he grumbled. Hermione huffed and stormed off ahead.
"Relax, mate!" Seamus said as he drew up behind them and slapped Ron on the shoulder. He held them back, allowing Hermione to get out of earshot. "I've brought us some beverages to help smooth things over." He winked and held out a bottle of Firewhiskey and another of rum. Ron's mood improved instantly.
About an hour in, the music was blaring, drinks were flowing, and Seamus was happily dancing with a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff, each with her house scarf wrapped around him, alternately drawing him in for a kiss. He could be heard yelling, "Here's to inter-house unity," while toasting anyone that would listen. All in all, it seemed to be a fair success. Ron and Hermione were nestled away in one corner, and Luna and Neville were getting cosy on the dance floor.
The one noticeable setback was that the Slytherins, the few who had decided to attend, were not mingling with anyone else. And, to Harry's surprise, Malfoy, who had arrived not too long ago, was sitting off on his own, not even speaking with them. That was strange. After all, Zabini and Parkinson were among the few that were there. But they paid him no mind.
Harry crossed the room to join him. "Malfoy."
"Potter."
"Some party."
"If you say so." He took a sip of his drink. "Aren't you worried that Weasel and Granger will wonder why you aren't with them?"
Harry shrugged. "Why would they?"
"Oh, I don't know. Because the three of you have been inseparable since first year maybe."
"Nah … three's a crowd."
"I don't know," Malfoy said with a cheeky grin and a waggle of the eyebrows. "Three can be fun."
Harry's jaw dropped. Malfoy cackled. Harry closed his mouth and processed just what he had said.
"Ew! With Hermione and Ron?"
Harry looked into the corner where his friends were snogging. Ron's technique hadn't improved much, if the slurping sounds from across the room were any indication. It was a wonder Hermione wasn't choking on Ron's tongue, the way he was jamming it down her throat. Harry shook his head and rubbed his eyes to erase the image unwillingly conjured.
"Ew."
Malfoy followed Harry's gaze. He immediately stopped laughing and shuddered. "Right. Freckles. Red Hair. Weasley tongue. My mistake. I take it all back."
Harry chuckled. At least he wasn't alone in his agony now. Misery loves company and all that. He grabbed a handful of crisps and looked around the room. It really was a good showing, all things considered. Maybe there was hope for their year.
"So … why aren't you mingling?"
"Do I look like the mingling sort to you, Potter?"
"Not the thing to do?" Harry asked, glancing back at Malfoy's house mates. "It looks like the Slytherins are all sticking together."
"Look around, Potter. No one seems to be making the effort to include any of us either."
"I am."
"I haven't seen you chum up to Pansy yet."
Harry looked over at her. "Truth be told, she frightens me a bit."
Malfoy laughed. "Understandable."
Harry smiled, glad to have broken the ice. "So why are you standing here instead of talking to your friends?"
Malfoy's face hardened. "My family name doesn't exactly hold the same position as it used to. Let's just leave it at that."
Harry wanted to argue, wanted to point out that it shouldn't matter to his friends, but he thought better of it.
"So … did you try some of Seamus's punch?"
"I should think not! Do you see what it's done to him?"
Harry chuckled as he watched his friend on the dance floor. "You have a point."
"You're not drinking?"
"I had one. That's enough. I'd rather keep a level head." He cast a surreptitious glance at the crowd of Slytherins.
"Wise move," Malfoy said. "I wouldn't get drunk with them around either."
Harry's mouth fell open.
"What? It's true. Slytherins are always observing, gathering information, collecting blackmail material. It would never do to let down your guard around one of us. Trust me on that one."
Harry was still trying to process the fact that Malfoy was giving him advice when Luna called out to the crowd. "Let's play a game!" she suggested.
Various suggestions were made, until the crowd settled on Truth or Dare.
"I'll just be going, then," Malfoy said and he made to leave the room.
"Aren't you going to join us, Draco?" Parkinson asked.
"Yeah, Malfoy. Stick around. It might be fun," Zabini added. The grin he wore looked anything but friendly.
"No thanks. I'll be calling it a night."
"Aw, are you scared?" Smith taunted.
"Of you?" Malfoy sneered. "Hardly." Then he left the room. Harry followed.
"Malfoy!" Harry called as he followed him down the hall. "Malfoy, wait up!"
"What is it, Potter?" he replied, not turning or slowing down.
Harry jogged to catch up, then grabbed Malfoy's arm to stop him. "Stop for a minute, would you?"
Malfoy stopped, turned and glared at Harry. "I am not going back there, so don't even bother trying."
"Why not?"
"You're not serious, are you? Truth or Dare? Come on, Potter. What are we, twelve?"
"No, we're eighteen."
"Exactly. Eighteen. We're adults, in case that escaped your notice. Why on earth would I entertain the notion of playing a child's game?"
Harry ran a hand through his hair as he considered the question. "I don't know, Malfoy. Maybe because a lot of us never really had a chance to be children?"
"Oh, so this is your long-lost childhood dream? To play games and pretend the war never happened?"
Harry took a calming breath. He wasn't going to let Malfoy bait him. "No, it's not. My dream, I mean. And I'm not pretending anything. We all know what happened, but it doesn't mean that we have to spend every moment dwelling on it."
"Dwelling on it?" Malfoy said incredulously. "Dwelling on it? Perhaps you should suggest to some of your friends in there that they should stop dwelling on the war. Excuse me if I'm never allowed to forget — not for a minute — about the war and my role in it. Every minute of every day I'm reminded of it, Potter. The remarks, the sneers, the accidental bumps in the halls. They" — he motioned towards the room they had just left — "never let me forget it. So you'll excuse me if I don't want to play Truth or Dare with a bunch of people that can't stand me. A bunch of people who would take the opportunity to further remind me of just what I've done."
Harry was struck dumb by Malfoy's remarks. He stood there silently as the words sank in. Harry thought back through the weeks since they'd been back at school, and realised that Malfoy was right. Harry and Hermione were forever telling Ron to back off, but he hadn't really considered what everyone else was doing. Harry remembered hearing remarks thrown around and seeing people knock Malfoy's work over and push him around. He hadn't considered that what he witnessed must just be a small portion of what Malfoy endured. Suddenly his solitary behaviour made much more sense. So lost in thought, Harry hadn't noticed Malfoy leave.
"Oi! Malfoy! Wait up!"
Malfoy stopped and turned around. "What now, Potter?"
"I'm sorry."
Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "Sorry for what?"
"For not paying closer attention." Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "I should have seen what was happening to you. I should have said or done something."
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Potter. Must you save everyone?"
Harry scratched the back of his neck. "Er ..."
"I am not your charity case. I don't need saving. I know this is going to be a difficult concept for you to grasp, but I. Don't. Want. Your. Help."
"But—"
"Piss off!"
October, 1998
"So, where to?" Ron asked, pulling Hermione in for a kiss. They were on their first Hogsmeade trip of the year.
She smiled up at Ron, and Harry rolled his eyes. "I need some new quills."
"You go through more quills than anyone I know," Ron said in a voice that almost sounded awed.
She punched him playfully on the arm before tapping his nose with her finger. "Oh, you!"
Harry was sure he was going to be sick. It was only a matter of time before they started snogging again. Honestly, did they have to keep doing that in public? Sighing, he tried to figure out a way to get away from the nauseatingly happy couple, formerly known as his two best friends. Spending the entire day with them now that they were together held no appeal whatsoever.
Harry looked desperately around at the other students, most rushing off to someplace warm. Not a bad idea, really. He was about to suggest a hot Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks when a shock of blonde hair caught his eye. Malfoy was up ahead, surrounded by a group of seventh and eighth year students, and it looked like Smith was leading the crowd.
"You two go on ahead. I'll meet you at Honeydukes in an hour."
He didn't wait for a response before making his way over to the crowd. "Malfoy! There you are!"
The crowd went silent and they parted to reveal a very angry Draco Malfoy.
"I thought we were meeting at the gate before heading out." Harry smiled as he reached out and grabbed Malfoy's arm, effectively pulling him out of the group. "No matter. I've found you now. Shall we?"
Malfoy looked over his shoulder at the other teens. "Oh, I'm sorry," Harry said, turning his gaze to Smith. "Did I interrupt something? I can wait."
"N-no," one of the seventh years stammered. "We were done."
Malfoy shot Harry a glare, but he just shrugged his shoulders. "No? Well that's it then. See you all later!"
He and Malfoy walked in silence for a few minutes, until they were well shot of Smith and the others, before Malfoy attacked. "What the fuck was that, Potter?"
"What?" Harry replied innocently.
"I do not need rescuing every five minutes," he growled through clenched teeth. "I am perfectly capable of handling that prat and his sidekicks."
"Yes, you are."
Malfoy stopped in his tracks and stared incredulously at Harry. "Then why do you feel the need to swoop down and ... and ..."
"Rescue you?" Harry bit back a chuckle.
"Yes!" Malfoy stormed off and Harry had to run to catch up.
"Malfoy, stop." Honestly, he really was infuriating. "You asked a question. The least you can do is stick around to hear the answer."
"Fine," he huffed. "Why do you insist on meddling in my affairs when I'm perfectly capable of handling them myself?"
"Because I ... well, I just can't help it." That wasn't what Harry had meant to say, but it was the truth.
"I am not your charity case, Potter. I am not some damsel in distress awaiting some knight to carry me away to his castle."
Harry snorted as he pictured Malfoy in a dress being whisked away on a horse by a knight in shining armour. By Harry. Shaking away that thought, he said, "Did you know that there's extra security patrolling Hogsmeade now?"
Malfoy frowned.
"I thought not." Harry looked around to be sure no one was listening to their conversation. "And you must realise that there are any number of people — Aurors included — who think you should have served time in Azkaban."
Malfoy nodded curtly.
"You are a fully-qualified wizard and, student or no student, you are off school grounds. If you were caught hexing someone, as I suspect you were readying yourself to do, you may very well have been carted off."
"Shit."
"Exactly."
"I didn't think —"
"Isn't that my job?" Harry asked.
The humour was lost as Malfoy gave Harry a confused look.
"Not thinking. Running in with no plan. You know, what I usually do."
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Did you just make a joke?"
"That I did," Harry said. "I am capable, you know."
"Be that as it may, I've not been a witness to it before." Malfoy furrowed his brows. "It's somewhat ... unsettling, to say the least."
"Why is that?"
"Because I'm used to you being annoying, not amusing. It just ... well, it's unnerving."
"I don't hate you, you know."
Malfoy clutched his chest. "Be still my heart, for the hero hath cast such kind words in my direction."
Harry shoved him — hard. "Prat!"
"Well, you've done you're hero's duty for the day; I'm sure I can manage on my own." Malfoy started walking towards the shops.
Harry fell into step with him. "Er …"
"What is it now, Potter?"
"I don't suppose you could return the favour, could you?"
Malfoy's shoulders stiffened and he gave Harry a suspicious look. "And how do you propose I do that?"
"Save me from spending the day with Ron and Hermione," Harry begged.
Malfoy burst into laughter. "So you were saving yourself just as much as you were saving me?"
"Well …"
"Some knight in shining armour you are, running away from the happy couple."
Harry shrugged. "So, what do you say?"
"Oh, alright. If I must," he huffed. He raised his chin haughtily. "You may have the pleasure of my company today. Just be sure you conduct yourself accordingly."
"But of course, Sir Malfoy," Harry said with a bow, earning himself a cuff in the back of the head.
They spent an enjoyable day roaming the shops in Hogsmeade, and managed not to bump into Ron and Hermione. If their presence together created a stir, Harry remained pleasantly unaware. They picked up some necessary supplies for class, some unnecessary but welcome treats at Honeydukes, and finished over Butterbeer at the Hog's Head. Malfoy was not inclined to face Rosmerta just yet.
"Ready to face the music, Potter?" Malfoy asked as they started heading back to school.
"What do you mean?"
"There you are!" Hermione called. "What happened to you? We were supposed to meet ages ago."
"Sorry. Got sidetracked," Harry replied.
"With the ferret?" Ron asked, aghast.
"Shocking, I know," Malfoy taunted. "But apparently Potter's tastes have improved."
Harry shot him a look. Malfoy shrugged and mouthed What?
He turned back to Ron, whose ears were turning red. "Yes, Ron, I was with Malfoy."
"You're too much, you know that." He moved closer and stared down at Harry. "Some friend you are. We waited there for nearly an hour for you to show up." He motioned towards Malfoy. "You could have ditched the ferret any time."
Harry replied before Malfoy had a chance. "I could have, yes." Harry noticed Malfoy's shoulders tense. Ron's attitude suddenly irritated the shit out of him. "And then I could have spent the entire day watching the two of you simpering over each other. Yes, that would have been so much more fun!"
"Why you —"
"Harry, how could you!" Hermione gasped.
"I'm sorry, Hermione, but it's true." At her wounded look, Harry continued. "To be honest, the two of you need to get over that whole new relationship stage before you are around other people. Including me. Especially me. You're great friends, both of you, but I just can't take it any more." He felt a twinge of guilt, but in for a penny, in for a pound. "Sorry if that sounds harsh, and sorry about today. You're right; I should have met you to at least tell you that, but … well … to be honest, I was having fun and I forgot. By the time we got to Honeydukes, you were gone."
Ron gaped at him, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He looked like he was going to launch an attack on Harry, but Malfoy jumped in.
"I believe Potter made himself clear, Weasel. You two swoon over each other constantly, and it's not only annoying but repulsive. You should be happy Potter said something, because now you can go off and spend every waking, breathing moment together. Trust me, you'll be doing the whole school a favour."
Harry took a last look at Hermione's hurt face, and his guilt resurfaced. But when he looked at Malfoy and got an encouraging smile in return, he knew he'd done the right thing. Harry smiled at Malfoy and they marched on ahead of Ron and Hermione.
"So …" Malfoy said once they were out of earshot.
"So?" Harry asked.
"Any other Gryffindors you want to tell off?"
Harry grinned. Neither of them bothered to glance back all the way to school.
Part 2
hd_holidays is over, reveals are up, and as always there were some great contributions of both fic and art. I would like to thank aluinnsearlait for my gift of gorgeous art, Harry and Malfoy, Ministry's Yule Gala, 2008 [Rating: G]. ♥Below is part one of my entry, with a link to part two at the end:
Author:
sesheta_66Betas:
winnett, marguerite_26 and raitalaWord Count: ~ 15,500
Challenge: Originally written for
__hibiscus in hd_holidays.Title: A Time to Move On
Pairings: Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione
Summary: With the war behind them, and wounds still raw, the students at Hogwarts try to work out what their futures might hold for them, and perhaps recapture a little of their lost youth along the way.
Rating: PG-13 / light R
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
May 2, 1998
Harry, Ron and Hermione left the Headmistress's office, Ron grumbling about the Elder Wand.
"You two go on ahead," Harry told Ron and Hermione. "There's something I want to do."
"But it was your idea to head back to Gryffindor in the first place," Ron pointed out. He looked shell-shocked, part of the reason Harry wanted to go back to Gryffindor Tower. He thought Ron could use a bit of time to process everything before he returned to face ….
"We'll come with you," Hermione suggested.
"No! I mean … I'll only be a few minutes. I'll see you in the Common Room."
Determined, Harry went back to face the crowd once more. He desperately needed sleep, needed to be away from everyone, but he was afraid that he might not get the chance again. Afraid they'd leave before he could say anything. Strange, that. He'd always known that others would help him along the way. He just never expected … well. He just couldn't say nothing.
Harry made his way into the Great Hall. There they were, right where they'd been when Harry left. His decision made, Harry walked over to the Malfoys.
"Malfoy." Harry looked at the other teen who, like himself, had the look of someone who had seen far too much, at far too young an age. "Could we talk?"
"Here to rub it in, Potter?" Lucius spat in his direction. "Not enough that we're —"
"Lucius!" Narcissa Malfoy cut her husband off. Harry watched as their son seemed to become smaller, like he hoped the ground would swallow him up.
"Perhaps we should talk another time," Harry addressed Draco. A slight nod was his only response.
Turning to Lucius Malfoy, Harry did his best not to do exactly what the man expected of him, no matter how tempting. "Lucius," Harry said, noting to his pleasure that his lack of formality was not lost on any of them. "I have no desire to rub it in, as you suggest. I'm sure there will be plenty of time — and plenty of other people — to do that later on. I don't plan to be one of them."
Lucius narrowed his eyes, looking as though he were sizing Harry up. "Time will tell, Mr. Potter."
"That it will."
Harry turned to Narcissa. "Mrs. Malfoy, I wanted to say —"
Her wide eyes told Harry to stop. Well. She must not have told her husband and son what she had done. That it hadn't been a mistake. Very well.
"I wanted to say that I misjudged you."
She had a fleeting, panicked look on her face, but when her husband turned to look at her, she resumed her cool demeanour.
"It's clear to me that you love your son very much. I … not that my opinion should matter to you, but … well, I think Draco is lucky to have you."
All three Malfoys gaped at him. Lucius's shock faded to guarded disbelief. Not much of a surprise there. Draco's gaze dropped to the floor. Who knew what he was thinking? Narcissa smiled. Harry realised it was the first time he had ever seen her really smile. It suited her. She ought to do it more often. Then again, living with Lucius …
"Thank you," she said. "I do indeed love my son very much." She looked into Harry's eyes, holding the gaze for a moment before continuing. "As I am sure your mother loved you."
Well. It was Harry's turn to be surprised.
Not wanting his emotions to get the better of him, he turned back to Draco. "I'll owl you."
As Harry left the Great Hall, he saw that Ron had not gone to Gryffindor, but was waiting just outside the door. His hands were clutching the wall — from fear, anguish or weariness Harry couldn't tell. He suspected it was a mixture of all three, and that his grip on the stone was all that kept him upright.
"What was that about?" Ron asked.
"Nothing. I just wanted to talk to Malfoy is all."
Ron's lost look morphed into one of irritation. "What do you need to talk to ferret boy for?"
Harry groaned inwardly. This was precisely the scene he'd wanted to avoid. How could he explain to Ron what was going through his mind? How could he describe what it was like to die? What it was like to accept the finality of it all, only to be thrust back into the fray. To desperately want the peace that, if only for a fleeting few moments, death had brought. He didn't want to die, but … he just couldn't go back to the way things were either.
"Ron, just leave off, will you? It's over. The war, the Death Eaters, everything. Can't we just —" Harry gestured wildly in the air, "— I don't know. Move on?"
Ron's jaw flexed and he leaned towards Harry. "Move on?!" Ron screeched, incredulity dripping off his words. "My brother is dead." He thrust his finger in the direction of his mourning family, his brother's body. "In case you hadn't noticed. He's not even in his grave yet, and you want me to move on?"
"Sorry, mate. That was ... insensitive of me."
"Bloody right it was!" Ron fumed, his face scarlet.
"But ... well … I just ... I don't know. I'm tired, Ron. Aren't you tired?" He looked at his friend's stricken face, willing him to understand. "I'm tired of it all. I just ... I want ... I don't know what I want. All I know is that I don't want to go back to the way it was. Not ever again.
"I know Fred is gone, and there's nothing we can do to change that. Same with Remus and Tonks and ... everyone." Harry dragged his hands down his face, blinking back the burning behind his eyes. "I just want to look forward, not back." He looked at Ron's unwavering expression. "I just … " Harry's voice trailed off as he gave up trying to find the words he needed. He wondered briefly if his brush with death had addled his brain.
Ron glared at Harry, then looked at his family grieving by Fred's body. He turned back to Harry. "You do that, mate. As for me, I'm going to be with my family."
Harry watched as his best friend walked away from him and joined the Weasleys. Mrs. Weasley hugged Ron so hard Harry was surprised he didn't cry out in pain. Mr. Weasley slapped him on the back and said something, then squeezed Ron's arm. Ginny collapsed on Ron's chest and he held her, running his hand through her hair. The rest of them sat, staring blankly, saying nothing, obviously in shock. Not one of them looked up at Harry.
As much as they considered him to be family, Harry knew better. He couldn't grieve with them. He wasn't one of them, no matter how desperately he wanted to belong. Without a word, he left the Great Hall and all the carnage behind. Forgetting all about his bed in Gryffindor Tower, he pressed open the double doors of the only home he'd ever known and walked into the light. Hoping that no one would follow, Harry Apparated to Godric's Hollow, where it had all begun.
Disguised, just as he'd been the last time he was there, Harry went to his old home. Now there was nothing to fear. He could take his time. He could grieve properly, something he'd never done before.
The cottage stood, as it had those few months ago, damaged and overrun with ivy, the right side of the upper floor blown away. There was no snow this time, so he could see the extensive damage. Hermione had been right; it didn't look safe. Still, Harry had to go inside, if only to say goodbye.
As Harry touched the rusty gate, once again the sign rose from the ground.
On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981,
Lily and James Potter lost their lives.
Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever
to have survived the Killing Curse.
This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left
in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters
and as a reminder of the violence
that tore apart their family.~ Deathly Hallows, Chapter 17, Bathilda's Secret.
May 7, 1998
"So, what is it you wanted to discuss with me, Potter?"
Harry looked up from the table. He hadn't noticed Malfoy enter the Leaky Cauldron. "Have a seat."
Malfoy frowned. "What for?"
"So we might have a civil conversation without you causing a scene by standing there glaring at me."
Malfoy looked around. Sure enough, people had begun to stare. He glared at them before sitting down. "There. I'm sitting. What do you want?"
"I thought I'd have some shepherd's pie, actually."
"Lunch?" Malfoy sounded incredulous. "First you suggest we might have a civil conversation — something I might point out, in seven years, we've never successfully done — and then you want to have lunch together?"
Harry smiled. "Mm-hmm."
"This is ridiculous!" Malfoy stood up.
"Sit down," Harry whispered. "I wanted to talk to you, and since, as you pointed out, we've never actually had a normal conversation, I thought we might try over lunch."
"Very well." Malfoy eyed him sceptically, but resumed his seat. "But for the record, it won't work."
"What won't?"
"I'm not giving you anything incriminating on my father."
Harry laughed. "Is that what you think this is about?"
"Well … isn't it?"
The waitress arrived to take their orders, giving Harry a chance to process what Malfoy had said. When she left, they sat in awkward silence, each of them looking anywhere but at each other.
After what felt like an eternity, Malfoy cleared his throat and fixed Harry with a stare. "You were saying?"
Harry fidgeted, trying to figure out the best way to proceed. He opted for the truth. "The Ministry hardly needs me — or anyone else for that matter — to covertly gather information on your father. Lucius is an escaped Death Eater, who had enough charges on him to put him in Azkaban in the first place." Harry watched as Malfoy looked down at the table and seemed to absorb what he was saying. "And in case it escaped your notice, Malfoy Manor was used as Death Eater headquarters."
Malfoy's head shot up and he glared at Harry. "No, it did not escape my notice, Potter." He practically spit out the words. His glare turned hostile, and his hands gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles were turning white.
"Shit." Harry ran his hands through his hair. "I'm sorry."
Malfoy's glare faltered at Harry's apology. "What?"
"I said I'm sorry. I didn't mean … I didn't think … I shouldn't have said that. Of course you didn't forget. I saw you … when Voldemort —" Malfoy cringed. "Never mind."
"Look, Potter," Malfoy said, loosening his grip on the table. "Like I said, this was a bad idea. I'll just go —"
As he stood up to leave, Harry grabbed his wrist. "Don't go. I'm sorry. Let's try again. No more talk about the war."
Harry let go as the waitress arrived with their food. Malfoy resumed his seat, and their meal was eaten in more uncomfortable silence.
"So," Harry said, putting down his fork, desperate to salvage … something. "How's your mum doing?"
Malfoy finished his current mouthful, took a sip of his water, then looked at Harry. "Let's see, a few days ago — one day after we returned home — your friends, the Aurors, dropped by for a visit and dragged her husband of twenty years off to Azkaban. How do you think she's doing?"
"I'm sorry —"
"No you're not. Don't pretend like you care about my father —"
"I didn't mean …" Harry dragged his hands through his hair again. This wasn't going at all like he'd planned. Well, if he had actually planned anything. "If there's anything I can do for you … anything you or your mother need —"
"But not my father."
Harry's back stiffened and he looked straight into Malfoy's eyes. They were defiant, just as Harry imagined his own eyes were now. "No. Not your father."
"Well then." Malfoy pushed aside his plate. "I'll be going."
"Wait," Harry said, again reaching across the table to prevent Malfoy from getting up. "Just give me a few more minutes of your time. Please."
Malfoy looked down at where Harry's hand was holding his arm. He pulled away, but didn't get up. "Please, Potter? This must be a record. You've apologised, offered me and my mother your assistance, and said please to me today. Surely the world as we know it is ending."
"Well, the world as we knew it has ended. The war is over."
"It's not over for some of us."
"Of course." Harry hadn't thought about that. What else was new? He never really thought about anything much before jumping in or opening his mouth. Only this time … well, it didn't seem to be working out for him. "I'm so—"
"If you say you're sorry one more time, I'm definitely leaving. I, for one, am not sorry you won the war. I'm glad snake-face is dead. I'm not happy about how things worked out, but I suppose …" He looked at Harry and shrugged. "I suppose father made his own choices, and he can't expect anyone to get him out of the mess he's in."
"Thank you."
Malfoy gave Harry an incredulous look. "Who are you and what have you done with Harry Potter?" He looked at his watch. "It's been about an hour, and you were here before me. Surely any Polyjuice you might have taken should have worn off by now."
Harry smiled. Really smiled. "It's really me, Malfoy. I'm just … tired. I'm tired of always fighting. Ever since I was eleven, and I found out I was a wizard, I —"
"Wait. What? You only found out you were a wizard when you were eleven?"
"Did I never tell you?"
The sneer Harry received was almost comforting in its familiarity.
"Right. We never had a conversation before." Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I was raised by my Muggle relatives who hated magic and refused to have it mentioned in the house. They hoped to will it" —or beat it— "out of me."
Malfoy's eyes narrowed. Whether in confusion, disbelief or annoyance, Harry couldn't be sure.
"When my Hogwarts letter arrived, they took it, wouldn't let me see it. Long story short, Hagrid hand-delivered me the letter and told me I was a wizard. That was on my eleventh birthday."
"But … but didn't you suspect something? Didn't you have errant magic happening all around you?"
"I suppose. But only if I was especially angry, upset or scared. I got in trouble any time it happened, but I didn't know why. I didn't realise it was happening because of me."
"Why didn't you ask?"
"I wasn't allowed to." Harry started to feel uncomfortable. How had the topic veered into this territory? "Anyway, I didn't mean to talk about my past. I just wanted to say that since I've known I was a wizard, I've been fighting. Fighting Voldemort, fighting the Prophet, fighting the Ministry … fighting you."
Malfoy looked put out, as if he resented the topic change, as if he were actually interested in Harry's past.
"Like I said, I'm tired, Malfoy. Tired of the fighting. Tired of always having to think about the next battle. I'm … well, I'm done."
Malfoy laughed, a good hearty laugh. It took Harry aback. He'd never actually seen Malfoy laugh without malice before.
"You?" he said, still chuckling. "You will never be done fighting, Potter." He wiped a stray tear. Harry wasn't sure why this was so funny to Malfoy.
"Tell me … what are you planning to do with the rest of your life?"
Harry frowned. "I'll probably become an Auror."
Malfoy cleared his throat and schooled his face into a serious expression. "Right. No fighting there."
Harry couldn't help the grin that tugged at his mouth. He could feel the blood rushing to his face. "Shut up."
"Oooh. There's an impressive comeback."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Right. Let me rephrase it then. I'm tired of fighting all the time. I may end up doing it as part of my job, but I'd like to just … I dunno … just enjoy life for a while."
"And you want to start with me?"
"Why not?"
"Because it's your job, Potter, like it or not."
"My job? You mean fighting with you?"
"Fighting the bad guys."
"You're not one of the bad guys."
"Yes I am."
"Not any more," Harry argued. His thoughts went back to images of Malfoy's face — through Voldemort's eyes — as he was forced to torture innocent people. Harry took a good look at the young man sitting across from him and realised something startling. "In fact, I don't know that you ever were."
"Now you're just being stupid."
"Whatever. I know what I saw."
"What do you mean, what you saw?"
Now that they were talking, Harry didn't want to get back into a discussion about the war. "I'll tell you some other time."
Harry reached into his cloak and pulled out a small package, ignoring Malfoy's flinch at his sudden action. He supposed it would be a long while before any of them could not react to something abrupt. He enlarged the package and handed it to Malfoy.
Harry watched as Malfoy's eyes widened. "Is this …?" His fingers moved hesitantly towards the parcel.
"Your wand, yes."
Malfoy opened the package, removed the wand, then held it, weighing it in his palm. Harry watched as a look of contentment washed over Malfoy's face. He could almost feel the warmth that his own wand produced whenever he held it. He remembered the day he bought it, and just how right it felt.
Malfoy frowned as he looked at Harry. "Thank you." It was said so quietly, Harry wasn't sure he was meant to hear.
"See?" he said, grinning. "That didn't hurt, did it?"
"Prat," Malfoy said, the hint of a smile warring with his frown. "It hurt a little."
Harry snorted. "Thank you, Malfoy. And thank your mother. You both helped me out, and I never would have made it through the battle otherwise."
Malfoy looked confused. "I know what my mother did, Potter. But I didn't do a damn thing to help you."
"Yes you did." Harry looked down at the wand Malfoy was holding reverently. "Even if you didn't mean to."
Malfoy followed Harry's gaze. "This? You took this from me. I didn't give it to you, for Merlin's sake."
"But you didn't identify us at the Manor. And you stopped Crabbe killing me. Like it or not, Malfoy, you did help."
Malfoy looked put out. "Whatever."
Harry called the waitress over, and handed her some galleons. "Take care, Malfoy. And tell your mother thanks from me."
"You should tell her yourself."
"I know. And I will. Just … just let her know, yeah?"
"Fine."
September, 1998
"Harry!"
Inwardly groaning, Harry recognised the voice calling him. Ginny. He was hoping to avoid her at least until they reached the school, but apparently the fates would not allow him that peace.
"Ginny."
She approached him slowly as she dragged her trunk behind. She leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Could we talk?" she asked.
"Can it wait —"
"No, Harry, it can't."
"Look, Gin, we need to get aboard the train."
"It leaves in twelve minutes. I only want five. If that." She looked at him with such determination, he knew it would be pointless to argue.
"Fine," he sighed. "What do you want to talk about?"
"Not here," she said. "Over there." She pointed to a waiting area that stood empty, as most people were in the process of boarding.
No sooner did they enter the room than Ginny waved her wand, locking the door and casting a Muffliato. Harry felt his nerves flutter under her gaze.
"Well?" he asked. "What did you want to talk about?"
"Us."
"What about us?"
She rolled her eyes, sighed and sat down on her trunk. "Oh, I don't know, Harry. Maybe the fact that there is no us."
Harry frowned and shot her a confused look.
"I'm not some delicate little flower who needs protecting, and I'm not stupid, Harry, and I ... I just don't think you see that. I think what you see is Ron's little sister."
"No, Ginny, I —"
"Yes, Harry, you do." She stood up, her hand to his chest preventing Harry's argument from being voiced. She looked up into Harry's eyes, then down at her hand. It started to quiver and she pulled it and herself away.
Turning to face the opposite wall, she continued. "It's okay, though." Her voice wavered and she cleared her throat. "I waited for you, Harry. I waited for a long time, for you to come round. And when you finally did, I was so happy."
She turned back to face him, looking anything but happy. She blinked, then looked away again, wrapping her arms around herself.
"But now … I don't know if you wanted me, or just missed my attention."
Harry bristled at that. He hated attention. She knew that. "Ginny, you know I —"
"That's just it, Harry, I don't know. I don't think I know you at all. For years I thought I loved you, but honestly, I'm not so sure now."
Harry tried not to be offended, but he couldn't help scowling at her remark.
"Please don't take what I'm saying the wrong way. I love you ... I just don't know if I'm in love with you."
Was that supposed to make sense? Harry suspected she'd been talking to Hermione a lot over the summer. All he could manage in response was, "Oh."
"Come on, Harry, admit it. You're not in love with me; you never were. You were so busy fighting the bad guys that you barely even noticed me." She looked sad, but resolute. "I think I was a novelty, the kid sister that kept fawning over you. It's rather embarrassing to think about now, but I can't change the past, can I? I've grown up a lot, Harry, and I've had this past year to think about us."
Yes, well, sorry I was a bit preoccupied myself. "And?"
She shuffled her feet and began ringing her hands. When she looked at Harry, he thought she was going to start crying. Instead, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
"And I think that we had our time but now it's over." She paused. Harry wondered if he was expected to say something. Before he had a chance, she continued. "You're the hero that everyone loves, myself included."
She did not just say that. Oh, this is definitely Hermione's work. His irritation flared as she got into her stride.
"You were also my big brother's friend, the one my parents welcomed as one of the family. I was the girl with the crush on you that suddenly started dating other boys, and you realised, finally, that I was a girl. It was convenient; it was easy."
"I'd like to think it was more than that."
She put a hand on his arm. It felt condescending to him. "Of course it was more than that. I'm just summarising things. When it came right down to it, though, you never saw me as your equal. You were the hero that went off and hunted down the Horcruxes and killed Voldemort."
"I wasn't alone."
"I know, and that's just it. You went with Ron and Hermione."
"They're my best friends."
"Exactly. I'm not. I never was, and never will be. I think you'll always see me as the little sister, the one to protect and keep safe."
Harry opened his mouth to say something, realised with a shock that she was probably right, and shut it again.
"As flattering as that may seem, Harry, it's not to me. I felt like you set me aside to stay out of the way while the big kids went to play. If you haven't figured it out by now, that's not me. I'm tired of being in your shadow. I don't want to be in anyone's shadow."
"So that's it, then?" Harry asked.
"I think so."
"Okay." Really, what else was there to say? She may not be right about everything, but Harry had to admit to himself that he'd known it was over before they even spoke.
Ginny smiled and hugged him, pressing her lips to his in a chaste kiss as she pulled back. "If it was love, you would have fought a lot harder."
Harry smiled and gave her hands a squeeze. "Yeah. I think you're right."
"Goodbye, Harry."
"Bye, Ginny."
Harry watched his ex-girlfriend leave the room and make her way onto the Hogwarts Express. Strange as it seemed, he felt a lightness, a freedom that he hadn't felt in a long time, if ever. Smiling at the wonder that was Ginny Weasley, he pulled his trunk behind him and boarded the train for his final year.
Harry found himself an empty cabin — he didn't even bother trying to find anyone — and settled himself inside. He wouldn't turn any of his friends away, but he hoped that he was late enough boarding that they would have found their own seats, and others might want to give him space.
"Potter?" So much for being alone.
"Malfoy? What are you doing here?"
"Where are your sidekicks?" he asked, ignoring Harry's question and leaning against the cabin doorway, hands crossed over his chest. "I can't imagine Granger and the weasel letting you out of their sight for more than a minute."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Please! They do just fine on their own these days." They won't even notice my absence. "I imagine they're attending to their prefect duties."
"Ah."
"Hey, you're a prefect. Why aren't you in the prefect's cabin?"
Malfoy sneered. "Surely you don't imagine that McGonagall would allow me to continue as a prefect after ... well."
Harry mentally slapped himself. "Oh, right. Sorry. Didn't think."
Malfoy snorted. "Typical."
"Nice."
"I'll just go find another compartment, then."
Harry sighed. "Don't bother. There's plenty of room in here."
Malfoy gave him a curious look, but didn't move from the door.
"It's just me in here. We don't even have to talk."
"Why?"
Harry's mind automatically scrambled to come up with the end of that. Why what? He gave up, realising it didn't matter. "I'm sure we'll manage."
When Malfoy still didn't move, Harry said, "I'm surprised you're returning."
"Last year wasn't exactly a stellar learning experience, unless one is planning to take up torture as a profession."
"So you didn't sit your NEWTs?"
"I didn't see the point. I only would have ended up with mediocre marks. And a Malfoy is never mediocre."
"I'll give you that, Malfoy." As students pushed by Malfoy in the aisle, Harry rolled his eyes. "Bring in your trunk and have a seat."
"What, no she-weasel?" He still didn't move.
"Not that it's any of your business, but we broke up."
"I hadn't heard."
"Not surprising, since it happened about ten minutes ago."
"You look positively heartbroken." Sarcasm dripped off his words.
Harry shrugged. "I guess it was a long time coming."
As a younger student struggled to get by Malfoy, Harry frowned and motioned for Malfoy to get out of the way.
"Just get in here. After all, it's a new year. We're in for a fresh start. Might as well begin now."
"You really are an idiot, Potter." Despite his words, he hauled his trunk into the cabin.
"Why do you say that?"
"Your Gryffindor sense of fairness has clearly muddled with your brain's ability to see what's in front of you. I would think, after years of being sought after by a madman, you'd be less naive."
"I am not naive, Malfoy."
"You are if you think any Slytherins are going to get a fresh start. Especially a Slytherin with the name Malfoy."
"I don't know about everyone else, but I know that I don't want to carry all the rivalry from the past forward. I plan to look ahead, not back."
Malfoy coughed. "Yeah, right."
Harry scowled. "Really. I mean it."
"You mean to tell me that you'll hold no grudges?"
"I ... well, I'll try. I don't want to judge people on the past."
"Even Pansy?"
Harry thought about that for a bit before answering. She had wanted to turn Harry over to Voldemort. She had tried to rally the students against him. But, Harry wondered, how many other people had the same thought, but didn't voice it? How many were content enough to flee, figuring Harry would get it in the end anyway?
He nodded. "Even Parkinson."
"This I've got to see," Malfoy replied.
Harry awoke to the sound of the compartment door slamming open.
"It's true!" a voice from the doorway called. "You really are going back!"
Malfoy looked up from the book he was reading. "How observant of you, Smith."
Zacharias Smith's wand was out instantly, and as Malfoy pulled his wand out, Harry cast a silent Protego and whatever hex Smith cast was deflected.
"What the —" Smith began, but as he noticed who had cast the spell, he stopped. "Potter? What are you doing in here with ... with him?"
"Until you so rudely interrupted, Smith, I was catching a nap."
"You what?" Smith was appalled as his mouth opened and shut a few times before he continued. "How could you let your guard down around ... this?"
Harry stood up, livid, wand pointed at Smith's throat. "Last I checked, I didn't report to anyone, Smith, least of all you."
"I didn't mean ... I just ... you should be careful. He's a Death Eater. He let his mates into the school. He —"
"Shut up!" Harry barked. "You know nothing! He's no Death Eater. Anything he did for Voldemort was for his family."
"Right. Dear ol' Daddy."
"Have you ever had anyone threaten your parents? Have you ever watched that same person threaten, torture and kill others right in front of you? Have you ever watched grown men, otherwise strong men, cower at the feet of the man that is threatening your family? Have you ever had anyone take away all the power that you have, all the power than your family has, then tell you to do something or else?" Harry had stepped closer to Smith, so his face was only a few inches from the other man's. "Well, have you?"
"N-no," Smith stuttered.
"I thought not." Harry took a step back but didn't lower his wand. "Until you have, you've no business judging anyone. Now, kindly fuck off and leave Draco and me in peace."
Harry shoved Smith out the door and with a wave of his wand, slammed it shut and locked it.
"Potter?" Malfoy asked after a few moments of silence.
Harry put away his wand and rubbed his hand over his face, hoping to scrub away the stress. "Hmm?"
"What was … what were you … why did you …?"
Harry laughed. "Not very articulate today, are you?"
"What did you do that for?"
"Smith is a prat."
"Actually, he's a fuckwit, but still. Why would you stand up for me like that?"
"He pissed me off."
"Yeah, I got that." Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Look, Potter, I get that you have this saving people thing that you do, but the war is over. I don't need saving."
"I know that. But people like Smith need someone to put them in their place."
"And that someone is you?"
"For today, sure. Why shouldn't it be?"
"Because you said you were tired of fighting. Besides, what he said was the truth."
"No it wasn't."
"Look." Malfoy was becoming agitated. "Stop trying to make me out to be the good guy who slipped up. That wasn't me. You of all people should know that. I fucked up in a big way, and now I have to pay for it. Just let me deal with it."
"No."
"Potter, I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. Don't. Help. Me."
"I'm afraid you're out of luck there, Draco."
"Don't call me Draco."
Harry grinned. "Fine. Malfoy. Here's the deal. I have lived with the threat of Voldemort looming over my head since I was eleven. Before that actually, but I didn't know about it then. I'm tired of living in a constant state of battle, whether big or small. So if I see anything that resembles that, I'm going to step in. Whether it's you on the receiving end or someone else. I'm sick of it all, and I'm going to do my best to get rid of poison like that."
"Even if the weasel is the one dishing it out?"
"Even then." Harry surprised himself when he realised that was the truth.
Malfoy scowled, but Harry could see the corners of his mouth twitching. He meant what he said. He was sick of fighting, even the petty little arguments at school. He hated it all.
Two weeks into term, McGonagall asked the seventh and eighth years to stay behind after dinner.
"I was approached by a few senior students for permission to hold a party," she announced to the group.
Hermione's smug expression spoke volumes. She was obviously one of the students.
"In an effort to promote inter-house unity, I have agreed. Next Saturday, the two top years have permission for a gathering. That should give you eight days to finalise the arrangements. Look on your house common room notice boards for more details and for the opportunity to participate in organising the event."
"Tell me why we're doing this again, Hermione?" Ron asked for the hundredth time.
"Inter-house unity."
"But why do we have to include the Slytherins?"
Hermione stopped and gave him a fierce look. "Ronald, the entire point of this is to mend fences, get past … well, the past."
"They're still Slytherins," he grumbled. Hermione huffed and stormed off ahead.
"Relax, mate!" Seamus said as he drew up behind them and slapped Ron on the shoulder. He held them back, allowing Hermione to get out of earshot. "I've brought us some beverages to help smooth things over." He winked and held out a bottle of Firewhiskey and another of rum. Ron's mood improved instantly.
About an hour in, the music was blaring, drinks were flowing, and Seamus was happily dancing with a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff, each with her house scarf wrapped around him, alternately drawing him in for a kiss. He could be heard yelling, "Here's to inter-house unity," while toasting anyone that would listen. All in all, it seemed to be a fair success. Ron and Hermione were nestled away in one corner, and Luna and Neville were getting cosy on the dance floor.
The one noticeable setback was that the Slytherins, the few who had decided to attend, were not mingling with anyone else. And, to Harry's surprise, Malfoy, who had arrived not too long ago, was sitting off on his own, not even speaking with them. That was strange. After all, Zabini and Parkinson were among the few that were there. But they paid him no mind.
Harry crossed the room to join him. "Malfoy."
"Potter."
"Some party."
"If you say so." He took a sip of his drink. "Aren't you worried that Weasel and Granger will wonder why you aren't with them?"
Harry shrugged. "Why would they?"
"Oh, I don't know. Because the three of you have been inseparable since first year maybe."
"Nah … three's a crowd."
"I don't know," Malfoy said with a cheeky grin and a waggle of the eyebrows. "Three can be fun."
Harry's jaw dropped. Malfoy cackled. Harry closed his mouth and processed just what he had said.
"Ew! With Hermione and Ron?"
Harry looked into the corner where his friends were snogging. Ron's technique hadn't improved much, if the slurping sounds from across the room were any indication. It was a wonder Hermione wasn't choking on Ron's tongue, the way he was jamming it down her throat. Harry shook his head and rubbed his eyes to erase the image unwillingly conjured.
"Ew."
Malfoy followed Harry's gaze. He immediately stopped laughing and shuddered. "Right. Freckles. Red Hair. Weasley tongue. My mistake. I take it all back."
Harry chuckled. At least he wasn't alone in his agony now. Misery loves company and all that. He grabbed a handful of crisps and looked around the room. It really was a good showing, all things considered. Maybe there was hope for their year.
"So … why aren't you mingling?"
"Do I look like the mingling sort to you, Potter?"
"Not the thing to do?" Harry asked, glancing back at Malfoy's house mates. "It looks like the Slytherins are all sticking together."
"Look around, Potter. No one seems to be making the effort to include any of us either."
"I am."
"I haven't seen you chum up to Pansy yet."
Harry looked over at her. "Truth be told, she frightens me a bit."
Malfoy laughed. "Understandable."
Harry smiled, glad to have broken the ice. "So why are you standing here instead of talking to your friends?"
Malfoy's face hardened. "My family name doesn't exactly hold the same position as it used to. Let's just leave it at that."
Harry wanted to argue, wanted to point out that it shouldn't matter to his friends, but he thought better of it.
"So … did you try some of Seamus's punch?"
"I should think not! Do you see what it's done to him?"
Harry chuckled as he watched his friend on the dance floor. "You have a point."
"You're not drinking?"
"I had one. That's enough. I'd rather keep a level head." He cast a surreptitious glance at the crowd of Slytherins.
"Wise move," Malfoy said. "I wouldn't get drunk with them around either."
Harry's mouth fell open.
"What? It's true. Slytherins are always observing, gathering information, collecting blackmail material. It would never do to let down your guard around one of us. Trust me on that one."
Harry was still trying to process the fact that Malfoy was giving him advice when Luna called out to the crowd. "Let's play a game!" she suggested.
Various suggestions were made, until the crowd settled on Truth or Dare.
"I'll just be going, then," Malfoy said and he made to leave the room.
"Aren't you going to join us, Draco?" Parkinson asked.
"Yeah, Malfoy. Stick around. It might be fun," Zabini added. The grin he wore looked anything but friendly.
"No thanks. I'll be calling it a night."
"Aw, are you scared?" Smith taunted.
"Of you?" Malfoy sneered. "Hardly." Then he left the room. Harry followed.
"Malfoy!" Harry called as he followed him down the hall. "Malfoy, wait up!"
"What is it, Potter?" he replied, not turning or slowing down.
Harry jogged to catch up, then grabbed Malfoy's arm to stop him. "Stop for a minute, would you?"
Malfoy stopped, turned and glared at Harry. "I am not going back there, so don't even bother trying."
"Why not?"
"You're not serious, are you? Truth or Dare? Come on, Potter. What are we, twelve?"
"No, we're eighteen."
"Exactly. Eighteen. We're adults, in case that escaped your notice. Why on earth would I entertain the notion of playing a child's game?"
Harry ran a hand through his hair as he considered the question. "I don't know, Malfoy. Maybe because a lot of us never really had a chance to be children?"
"Oh, so this is your long-lost childhood dream? To play games and pretend the war never happened?"
Harry took a calming breath. He wasn't going to let Malfoy bait him. "No, it's not. My dream, I mean. And I'm not pretending anything. We all know what happened, but it doesn't mean that we have to spend every moment dwelling on it."
"Dwelling on it?" Malfoy said incredulously. "Dwelling on it? Perhaps you should suggest to some of your friends in there that they should stop dwelling on the war. Excuse me if I'm never allowed to forget — not for a minute — about the war and my role in it. Every minute of every day I'm reminded of it, Potter. The remarks, the sneers, the accidental bumps in the halls. They" — he motioned towards the room they had just left — "never let me forget it. So you'll excuse me if I don't want to play Truth or Dare with a bunch of people that can't stand me. A bunch of people who would take the opportunity to further remind me of just what I've done."
Harry was struck dumb by Malfoy's remarks. He stood there silently as the words sank in. Harry thought back through the weeks since they'd been back at school, and realised that Malfoy was right. Harry and Hermione were forever telling Ron to back off, but he hadn't really considered what everyone else was doing. Harry remembered hearing remarks thrown around and seeing people knock Malfoy's work over and push him around. He hadn't considered that what he witnessed must just be a small portion of what Malfoy endured. Suddenly his solitary behaviour made much more sense. So lost in thought, Harry hadn't noticed Malfoy leave.
"Oi! Malfoy! Wait up!"
Malfoy stopped and turned around. "What now, Potter?"
"I'm sorry."
Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "Sorry for what?"
"For not paying closer attention." Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "I should have seen what was happening to you. I should have said or done something."
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Potter. Must you save everyone?"
Harry scratched the back of his neck. "Er ..."
"I am not your charity case. I don't need saving. I know this is going to be a difficult concept for you to grasp, but I. Don't. Want. Your. Help."
"But—"
"Piss off!"
October, 1998
"So, where to?" Ron asked, pulling Hermione in for a kiss. They were on their first Hogsmeade trip of the year.
She smiled up at Ron, and Harry rolled his eyes. "I need some new quills."
"You go through more quills than anyone I know," Ron said in a voice that almost sounded awed.
She punched him playfully on the arm before tapping his nose with her finger. "Oh, you!"
Harry was sure he was going to be sick. It was only a matter of time before they started snogging again. Honestly, did they have to keep doing that in public? Sighing, he tried to figure out a way to get away from the nauseatingly happy couple, formerly known as his two best friends. Spending the entire day with them now that they were together held no appeal whatsoever.
Harry looked desperately around at the other students, most rushing off to someplace warm. Not a bad idea, really. He was about to suggest a hot Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks when a shock of blonde hair caught his eye. Malfoy was up ahead, surrounded by a group of seventh and eighth year students, and it looked like Smith was leading the crowd.
"You two go on ahead. I'll meet you at Honeydukes in an hour."
He didn't wait for a response before making his way over to the crowd. "Malfoy! There you are!"
The crowd went silent and they parted to reveal a very angry Draco Malfoy.
"I thought we were meeting at the gate before heading out." Harry smiled as he reached out and grabbed Malfoy's arm, effectively pulling him out of the group. "No matter. I've found you now. Shall we?"
Malfoy looked over his shoulder at the other teens. "Oh, I'm sorry," Harry said, turning his gaze to Smith. "Did I interrupt something? I can wait."
"N-no," one of the seventh years stammered. "We were done."
Malfoy shot Harry a glare, but he just shrugged his shoulders. "No? Well that's it then. See you all later!"
He and Malfoy walked in silence for a few minutes, until they were well shot of Smith and the others, before Malfoy attacked. "What the fuck was that, Potter?"
"What?" Harry replied innocently.
"I do not need rescuing every five minutes," he growled through clenched teeth. "I am perfectly capable of handling that prat and his sidekicks."
"Yes, you are."
Malfoy stopped in his tracks and stared incredulously at Harry. "Then why do you feel the need to swoop down and ... and ..."
"Rescue you?" Harry bit back a chuckle.
"Yes!" Malfoy stormed off and Harry had to run to catch up.
"Malfoy, stop." Honestly, he really was infuriating. "You asked a question. The least you can do is stick around to hear the answer."
"Fine," he huffed. "Why do you insist on meddling in my affairs when I'm perfectly capable of handling them myself?"
"Because I ... well, I just can't help it." That wasn't what Harry had meant to say, but it was the truth.
"I am not your charity case, Potter. I am not some damsel in distress awaiting some knight to carry me away to his castle."
Harry snorted as he pictured Malfoy in a dress being whisked away on a horse by a knight in shining armour. By Harry. Shaking away that thought, he said, "Did you know that there's extra security patrolling Hogsmeade now?"
Malfoy frowned.
"I thought not." Harry looked around to be sure no one was listening to their conversation. "And you must realise that there are any number of people — Aurors included — who think you should have served time in Azkaban."
Malfoy nodded curtly.
"You are a fully-qualified wizard and, student or no student, you are off school grounds. If you were caught hexing someone, as I suspect you were readying yourself to do, you may very well have been carted off."
"Shit."
"Exactly."
"I didn't think —"
"Isn't that my job?" Harry asked.
The humour was lost as Malfoy gave Harry a confused look.
"Not thinking. Running in with no plan. You know, what I usually do."
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Did you just make a joke?"
"That I did," Harry said. "I am capable, you know."
"Be that as it may, I've not been a witness to it before." Malfoy furrowed his brows. "It's somewhat ... unsettling, to say the least."
"Why is that?"
"Because I'm used to you being annoying, not amusing. It just ... well, it's unnerving."
"I don't hate you, you know."
Malfoy clutched his chest. "Be still my heart, for the hero hath cast such kind words in my direction."
Harry shoved him — hard. "Prat!"
"Well, you've done you're hero's duty for the day; I'm sure I can manage on my own." Malfoy started walking towards the shops.
Harry fell into step with him. "Er …"
"What is it now, Potter?"
"I don't suppose you could return the favour, could you?"
Malfoy's shoulders stiffened and he gave Harry a suspicious look. "And how do you propose I do that?"
"Save me from spending the day with Ron and Hermione," Harry begged.
Malfoy burst into laughter. "So you were saving yourself just as much as you were saving me?"
"Well …"
"Some knight in shining armour you are, running away from the happy couple."
Harry shrugged. "So, what do you say?"
"Oh, alright. If I must," he huffed. He raised his chin haughtily. "You may have the pleasure of my company today. Just be sure you conduct yourself accordingly."
"But of course, Sir Malfoy," Harry said with a bow, earning himself a cuff in the back of the head.
They spent an enjoyable day roaming the shops in Hogsmeade, and managed not to bump into Ron and Hermione. If their presence together created a stir, Harry remained pleasantly unaware. They picked up some necessary supplies for class, some unnecessary but welcome treats at Honeydukes, and finished over Butterbeer at the Hog's Head. Malfoy was not inclined to face Rosmerta just yet.
"Ready to face the music, Potter?" Malfoy asked as they started heading back to school.
"What do you mean?"
"There you are!" Hermione called. "What happened to you? We were supposed to meet ages ago."
"Sorry. Got sidetracked," Harry replied.
"With the ferret?" Ron asked, aghast.
"Shocking, I know," Malfoy taunted. "But apparently Potter's tastes have improved."
Harry shot him a look. Malfoy shrugged and mouthed What?
He turned back to Ron, whose ears were turning red. "Yes, Ron, I was with Malfoy."
"You're too much, you know that." He moved closer and stared down at Harry. "Some friend you are. We waited there for nearly an hour for you to show up." He motioned towards Malfoy. "You could have ditched the ferret any time."
Harry replied before Malfoy had a chance. "I could have, yes." Harry noticed Malfoy's shoulders tense. Ron's attitude suddenly irritated the shit out of him. "And then I could have spent the entire day watching the two of you simpering over each other. Yes, that would have been so much more fun!"
"Why you —"
"Harry, how could you!" Hermione gasped.
"I'm sorry, Hermione, but it's true." At her wounded look, Harry continued. "To be honest, the two of you need to get over that whole new relationship stage before you are around other people. Including me. Especially me. You're great friends, both of you, but I just can't take it any more." He felt a twinge of guilt, but in for a penny, in for a pound. "Sorry if that sounds harsh, and sorry about today. You're right; I should have met you to at least tell you that, but … well … to be honest, I was having fun and I forgot. By the time we got to Honeydukes, you were gone."
Ron gaped at him, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He looked like he was going to launch an attack on Harry, but Malfoy jumped in.
"I believe Potter made himself clear, Weasel. You two swoon over each other constantly, and it's not only annoying but repulsive. You should be happy Potter said something, because now you can go off and spend every waking, breathing moment together. Trust me, you'll be doing the whole school a favour."
Harry took a last look at Hermione's hurt face, and his guilt resurfaced. But when he looked at Malfoy and got an encouraging smile in return, he knew he'd done the right thing. Harry smiled at Malfoy and they marched on ahead of Ron and Hermione.
"So …" Malfoy said once they were out of earshot.
"So?" Harry asked.
"Any other Gryffindors you want to tell off?"
Harry grinned. Neither of them bothered to glance back all the way to school.
Part 2
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2009-01-19 06:43 pm (UTC)Felaine
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Date: 2009-01-28 04:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-28 02:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-28 04:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-04 08:55 am (UTC)I really like Harry standing up to people for Draco. That was great.
The ending of this part was hilarious. I don't blame Harry for getting fed up. It's normal for Ron and Hermione to be this ... hands on but it's awkward for any third person. :D
Wonderful job! Now I'm off to read the second part. :)
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Date: 2009-02-08 06:57 am (UTC)